


Snow Over Old Tracks

by ExtraPenguin



Category: Blood Under the Bridge - Frightened Rabbit (Song), Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Wartime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 16:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14572731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExtraPenguin/pseuds/ExtraPenguin
Summary: When Zin Rihks collapsed from the cold, he didn't expect to be saved by his archnemesis, Leshuo s'Tarakhi.





	Snow Over Old Tracks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadow_lover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_lover/gifts).



> [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S78V_WpAkOA)   
>  [lyrics](http://frightenedrabbit.com/song-lyrics/)

Zin Rihks had committed a terrible error in judgment.

He’d been told to fight over the Northern Reaches, so fight he did, with the troops the leadership had allocated him. It was the start of winter when the battles began. Now, the Sun had set for the polar night. A blue twilight took over the sky and snow. The Moon was nowhere to be seen, and it would be a while yet until the stars shone and he could get his bearings. Meanwhile, he was scrambling along in the snow, unable to stop lest someone be tracking his trail.

A fire user had no business leading an expedition this far into the winter, but Veln had always lacked in ice users and he’d idiotically volunteered when he heard the monster Leshuo s’Tarakhi would be facing him. He couldn’t even call fire to his fingertips when he was alone like this – he might be found by his fellow Velnese, or the Shiraians might descend upon him as a pack. He kept his heading and stumbled forth. He hoped he was going East towards the Velnese encampment. To think that short months ago he’d been in Veln’s capital, enjoying the autumn sun and barely noticing the slight crispness of the mornings.

He was slowing down.

His muscles burned from the constant wade through waist-deep snow, but he could feel the cold’s numbness seep in through his skin. They’d all been kitted in proper gear, but the face couldn’t be covered properly, and the joins of his gloves had come loose. He’d never imagined that the cold could burn. His breath froze on his mouthpiece and melted again, running freezing water down his chin. His eyelashes were in danger of freezing shut.

Finally, Zin Rihks could continue no further. He gave in to the bone-deep weariness within him and promised himself that he’d stay awake, just sit here for a bit before the twilight turned to night and then he could head East and find his fellow soldiers…

 

He came to in darkness.

A small wait for his eyes to adjust, and he could see as well as hear the other person in the small snow cave. A man, and not Velnese, by the cut of his clothes. Zin slowly pushed energy into his palms and pulled up a fireball to light up the cave.

Sitting across from him, head thrown back in exhaustion, long black hair freeing itself from its braid, was Leshuo s’Tarakhi.

Zin flung the fireball at him, only to have it be interrupted by an ice wall. The cave was lit with refractions through the ice, lines of light and dark painting a transient picture that fizzled out with the fireball.

“You’re awake,” the other stated. He sounded as exhausted as Zin felt.

Zin made another fireball, this time only for illumination. As his surprise attack had failed, it seemed the next thing they would do was talk, and he wanted to see the monster’s face.

Leshuo s’Tarakhi stared at him for a while. The ice wall slid back down into the ground. “You do realize the Northern Reaches are utterly worthless to fight over?”

“If that’s so, then why are you here?” Zin asked.

“Did you have a choice?” Leshuo s’Tarakhi asked quietly.

Zin narrowed his eyes. He’d traded a few barbs with the monster when they first met on the battlefield. This wasn’t the arrogant Leshuo s’Tarakhi he remembered from a decade ago. “Can anyone force a monster into anything?”

Leshuo s’Tarakhi seemed to collapse further. Zin would’ve tried throwing another fireball, but Leshuo s’Tarakhi had shown his reaction speed right at the start. “Is that how you lot see me? A monster? Whatever have I done to deserve the moniker?”

“Don’t you remember what you did to Danling?” Zin hissed. It had been his first assignment as a soldier. A few months before his intended first service, but the training facility had been the closest source of soldiers for the newest battlefield of the Eternal War.

In the dead of summer, all the villagers had started freezing from the inside. The results of icicles in the bloodstream were not pretty to observe, and in the center of the marketplace, untouched by the bone-frost, had stood a youth from Shirai who introduced himself as Leshuo s’Tarakhi. He’d escaped with his prodigal ice powers while the soldiers tried to save the villagers.

“Ah. That.” Leshuo s’Tarakhi’s gaze defocused for a moment. Zin saw he was trying to hide a wound on his side. It looked like it had been left by an ice spear, which was odd, as the Velnese had no ice users in this company, and it looked too fresh to have been inflicted by another group. Leshuo s’Tarakhi sighed. “The fault … was not entirely mine. I did not invent it, and later advised against its use. Not that it matters, I suppose.” He looked at Zin through his eyelashes. “How would Veln punish me?”

“Depends how you’re caught.” Zin figured he might answer as honestly as he could. “Imprisonment as a prisoner of war, if we get you alive. A trial afterwards. Execution or imprisonment, I’d think, but I’m not a lawyer.”

Leshuo s’Tarakhi hummed and sat in silent thought.

Zin observed his face and tried to puzzle out his opponent. Could exhaustion bring forth such a great change in personality? Why had the monster made a snow cave for Zin to warm up in, rather than leaving him for the winter to take care of?

One of created fire’s more curious properties was that it didn’t warm its surroundings, unless it set something alight. As the flush of adrenaline receded, Zin was still shivering. The only things here to burn were their clothes, and he was sure they were all non-flammable.

Leshuo s’Tarakhi’s jacket was stained dark. Perhaps he was nothing more than a dying man searching for company.

“You’re injured,” Zin flatly stated. It didn’t come across as hostilely as he intended.

“You’re cold,” Leshuo s’Tarakhi replied. He pressed down on his side and winced minutely. “Too bad your fire won’t warm you.”

“I could set you on fire.”

“You couldn’t keep me on fire.” Indeed, there was too much snow for Leshuo s’Tarakhi to roll in.

In the absence of burnables and heat packs, the best way to stay warm was to find a fellow human being to huddle against. Trouble was, the only human in sight was Leshuo s’Tarakhi.

The only sounds were those of breathing. Zin Rihks decided he didn’t want to brave the cold and windy outdoors just yet. “Does using ice make you immune to the cold?”

“No.” Leshuo s’Tarakhi didn’t open his eyes. Zin wondered whether he’d dodge another fireball, or if he was in any condition to dodge one. If he was bleeding out, Zin wouldn’t give him a mercy kill. “It does provide some – tolerance, though,” Leshuo s’Tarakhi continued.

“Why did you save me?” Zin asked.

“Why wouldn't I?” Leshuo s’Tarakhi left his red lips slightly apart. His jaw wobbled in a weak attempt to chatter his teeth. “Do I need to explain altruism to you?”

“Why would a monster be an altruist?”

“I don’t want to be a monster,” Leshuo s’Tarakhi said. He finally opened his eyes. His expression was a beautiful sort of melancholy.

“You massacred Danling,” Zin hissed.

“I was fifteen,” Leshuo s’Tarakhi said. He sounded weary. “Were all the decisions _you_ made at fifteen brilliant?”

No-one had gotten a good look at Leshuo s’Tarakhi back then. Some years later, he’d turned up in command of a group of Shiraian soldiers. Zin had always assumed his opponent to be of an age with him, rather than four years younger.

“And the decisions you’re making now?”

“I’m defecting.”

Zin’s thoughts screeched to a halt. Leshuo s’Tarakhi’s expression was the same weary half-smile and slightly hooded eyes looking at Zin. “ _What._ ”

“I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to kill anymore. Shirai won’t let me stop; they forced me to start and they’re forcing me to continue. I want out.” His fingers curled around his injury. “No matter what the price.”

“Commandant s’Tarakhi, of the Shiraian Empire, defecting.” Zin didn’t quite believe it. Then again, it explained why he’d save Zin.

“Just Leshuo s’Tarakhi, now.” He sighed. “They might’ve been feeding me false information, but I think Shirai will attack Varling in the next month. It might be lightning users to hit the power lines to the North and then footsoldiers from the South, via some forest paths, though that’s mostly conjecture, and they might’ve changed the plan in the weeks I’ve been here.”

Preventing the attack wouldn’t win the Eternal War, but Varling was a major city. Lives would be saved, and the power and communications lines wouldn’t be disrupted. “So you truly are defecting,” Zin whispered.

“I’m sorry I don’t have more intel.” Leshuo s’Tarakhi closed his eyes again, the very picture of exhaustion.

“I’m sure the interrogators can extract things you didn’t even know were useful from you.” Since he was cooperative, he might even survive.

Leshuo s’Tarakhi twitched his lips.

Zin considered. This was the highest-level defection in centuries. Even if it was the monster, he had a responsibility to bring the defector back alive. Besides, he was cold. He slowly shuffled next to Leshuo s’Tarakhi, who opened one eye to track his movements.

Leshuo s’Tarakhi was unexpectedly small and frail, curled up around himself.

“Let me see,” Zin said and pushed Leshuo s’Tarakhi’s hand aside. The wound was fresh, and Zin had lots of experience patching up ice spear holes. He tugged Leshuo s’Tarakhi’s clothes out of the way – the small amount of cold would be worth it to eliminate the bleeding – and played with a small flame. It was an advanced technique, but Zin had had lots of practice, both on his comrades and himself. Shirai produced more ice users than Veln.

“Thank you,” Leshuo s’Tarakhi said when Zin was done. He looked and sounded like a wind-up toy in dire need of re-winding. A side effect of the blood loss, most likely.

Leshuo s’Tarakhi was also much too cold beneath Zin’s hands. Again, the blood loss. Leshuo s’Tarakhi was still warmer than their surroundings, so Zin lifted him up into Zin’s lap. He was shockingly light.

“What?” Leshuo s’Tarakhi asked. Zin quoted the Velnese Military’s instructions on dealing with hypothermia and blood loss at him.

Leshuo s’Tarakhi went pliant in Zin’s arms. “Mm.” He tucked his face into the crook of Zin’s neck. Zin couldn’t quite feel the warm breath through the gap between his jacket and hat.

One part of the instructions was ensuring that the patient didn’t fall asleep. Zin took some time to come up with something that didn’t sound too accusatory and wouldn’t cause Leshuo s’Tarakhi to bolt. “You seem comfortable.” Zin didn’t think he quite succeeded in his aims. Ah well.

“It’s been a while since I was held by – anyone,” Leshuo s’Tarakhi said. He curled up in Zin’s lap, completely ensconced despite the bulky winter gear.

How small was the man, anyway? Zin Rihks knew he wasn’t all that much taller than the average man, and he’d spotted that Leshuo s’Tarakhi certainly wasn’t taller than him, but if he peeled off all that soldierly gear, how much man would there be left?

Zin’s fingers were growing numb and his nose tingled. He knew he had to get them both to actual warmth soon. The little snow cave, despite being much warmer than the outdoors, was only slowing the inevitable.

“Do you think it’s night yet?” he asked Leshuo s’Tarakhi.

Leshuo s’Tarakhi lifted a hand and created a gap in the opposite wall of the cave. The sky was black and dotted with stars.

“The Veln camp’s east of the battlefield,” Zin said.

“Mm.” Leshuo s’Tarakhi didn’t release his grip on Zin’s coat.

“Do I really have to carry you through the snow?” Zin said, exasperated.

Leshuo s’Tarakhi finally stirred. “Stand next to me,” he said. He rolled off Zin’s lap and summoned up a slab of ice from the compacted snow beneath them. Oh yeah. Ice user. Zin gripped Leshuo s’Tarakhi’s shoulder as their slab of ice sped across the snowbanks to the East.

“Tell me if you spot them,” Leshuo s’Tarakhi said.

Zin made a sound of agreement. The element would be the last thing to go; he knew that from seeing too many comrades fall, fighting to the last. Leshuo s’Tarakhi might be recovering from the blood loss, or he might be on a downward slope. They’d just have to reach the camp soon.

Bobbing through the snowbanks, up and down and between the fells, he saw a familiar outline.

“To the left,” he said. “And slow down.” He called up a large signal flare.

“You could’ve waited a bit,” Leshuo s’Tarakhi grumbled. “What if it had been ou- _Shiraian_? And your beacon’s shot my dark vision.”

“The point is not that we see them, but that they see us,” Zin said.

They crept closer. The watch officer – Kal Raan, by the sound of her voice – shouted out a challenge. Zin replied with the shibboleth and his name. “I have a – guest,” he added. “A guest who needs medical attention.”

Leshuo s’Tarakhi harrumphed, but didn’t object otherwise. Their ice raft was slowing down and wavering from the path. As soon as they reached the packed snow between the tents, it – fell down into pieces more than shattered – and Leshuo s’Tarakhi almost collapsed onto the ground.

“Raan, help me carry him to medical,” Zin ordered.

“I can walk myself,” Leshuo s’Tarakhi muttered.

“No, you can’t, kid,” Lieutenant Raan said. She gently lifted him onto her shoulder and let Zin lead them to the medical tent.

“Doc, I’ve got a high-level defector who got an ice spear to the side and the resulting blood loss, as well as possible hypothermia. I did some field healing on the wound,” he reported to old Sawbones.

She raised both her eyebrows at the mention of a high-level defector, but prepared her implements. Only when the hood came off Leshuo s’Tarakhi did she do a momentary double-take before returning to her professional demeanor.

While the doctor was poking at Leshuo s’Tarakhi, who looked even smaller and frailer without his clothes, Raan quietly asked Zin, “So who is this guy anyway, sir?”

“It’s Commandant Leshuo s’Tarakhi,” he murmured. He spared a glance at Raan. “Pick up your jaw from the floor, Lieutenant.”

Raan closed her mouth with a click.

Zin Rihks considered where to house his guest. The book stated defectors should be placed somewhere where their original side couldn’t get at them and the guarding soldiers wouldn’t be tempted to take justice into their own hands before the interrogators got in. Leshuo s’Tarakhi was an infamous enough opponent that the only real option was Zin’s bed. Besides, they both still needed to get warmed up.

After a short detour to the communications array, warning of the attack against Varling, Zin dragged Leshuo s’Tarakhi into his personal tent. Up close and without the aura of command about him, Leshuo s’Tarakhi was more than half a head shorter than Zin and very slight.

“You’re letting me sleep in your bed?” Leshuo s’Tarakhi asked, incredulous. He seemed to have regained a minute amount of vigor. No doubt he’d be withdrawn tomorrow, the full impact of his decision settling down onto his shoulders.

“I cannot guarantee your safety elsewhere,” Zin said. He gave Leshuo s’Tarakhi a pack of standard toiletries, and they went through their pre-sleep routines together in an uncanny silent domesticity. Zin changed into a fresh set of undershirt and -trousers for sleeping, then looked around and could only offer Leshuo s’Tarakhi a set in Zin’s size.

He looked nothing like the monster of Danling. His waist-length black hair hung loose and slightly mussed, the clothes were several sizes too large for him, and he wore a soft smile on his face.

Zin held open the covers. “Come, Leshuo s’Tarakhi.”

“You may call me Leshuo,” he said as he slipped in and curled around Zin.

Leshuo. Zin looked at the top of the head pillowed on his chest. He felt moderately conflicted, but curiosity got the better of him and he stroked Leshuo’s hair. The Velnese fashion had been short-shorn hair for as long as he could remember. The long strands felt silky-smooth beneath his fingers. “Will you cut it?”

“My hair? Never.” Leshuo made a small sound of contentment when Zin continued stroking it. “For better or worse, I grew up in Shirai, and there are some things I see no need to part from, Major.”

Zin tangled his fingers in Leshuo’s hair and pulled until Leshuo was looking at his face. “It’s Zin.”

Unexpectedly, Leshuo smiled. “Zin.” He curled back contentedly when Zin released his hair. “I’m glad I found you.”

“Me too.” Zin was glad enough simply of not dying of hypothermia. Taming the monster would’ve been beyond his wildest hopes for the day, but that had happened as well.

He turned off the lights and settled down with an arm around Leshuo. “Good night.”


End file.
